


Snap, Crackle, X

by PlumPromises



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Friendship, Gen, I'm Bad At Titles, Mutant Darcy Lewis, Mutants, Not Marvel TV show compliant, Occasional violence and gore warning, Plot, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-06-27 00:37:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19779703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlumPromises/pseuds/PlumPromises
Summary: After the snapback (or the blip, as everyone NOT in the know likes to call it), the world doesn’t just bounce back to the way it was before. Funny how millions of people appearing all at once can cause a bit of an upheaval. Still, that’s not even the craziest part of it all. Nope, that award goes to the fact that not everyone came back from the blip in the same condition they left in, including one Darcy Lewis.As her and Jane struggle to come to terms with an Earth five years beyond their memory and a whole lot of chaos in the aftermath of people being returned, there are rumors starting, whispers on the dark web and in dim back alleys: some of the people who came back have been changed... mutated. And unfortunately, in a post-Thanos world, anything out of the ordinary isn't a very welcome sight.





	1. The Snappening

**Author's Note:**

> Bear with me. This might be a long ride.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Jane get snapped and then unsnapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is fic #2 that I'm writing right now, so apologies beforehand for the slow going. I've got about half of this roughly outlined so hopefully I'll be able to update on a semi-regularish basis.
> 
> That said, I've had this idea of how the MCU could incorporate their newly acquired rights to mutants and I just couldn't get it off my mind. As stated in the summary and tags, this story takes place immediately after Professor Hulk's SNAP, and is going to be as cannon compliant as my memory and research allows. Everyone dead in the MCU is dead here, and yes, our beloved Steve Rogers is old.
> 
> I really hope this is enjoyable, and so sorry for typos or continuity errors. I will be posting this in fresh rough draft form w/o any beta readers. so you guys get to ride this roller coaster with me because I have literally not written anything beyond this yet.

Darcy scrolled through the songs on her phone, trying to build the perfect ‘my ass is freezing, and I totally wish I was on a beach somewhere instead” playlist. Kokomo by the Beach Boys; _a must_ . Cake by the Ocean; _obviously_ _has to_ _be in there_ . Oh, Margaritaville; _yes, two please_ _._

To say she was cold and miserable would have been an understatement of the century. 

She was miserable because she was bored and there was literally not enough signal to do anything but look at her current songs. They were ample sure, but they were no infinite playlist from the never-ending library that was Spotify, the one and only true love of her life after her very messy breakup with iTunes. 

And she was cold because clearly, she was not made for this winter wonderland bullcrap no matter how prepared she came. Seriously. She had on a tactical bra with extra padding to keep the girls warm, a tunic tank top, a hoodie, a waterproof overcoat, two pairs of socks, leggings on _under_ the jeans _under_ her snow pants, a scarf, fingerless gloves and a beanie to top it all off with. And yet she was _still_ freezing enough that her teeth were chattering. 

Nope, the cold was so _not_ for her. She’d take that New Mexico heat again any day of the week even if it _did_ come with the most boring town in all America. Well, not most boring _anymore_. They’d really made a market out of being the ‘home’ away from home for Thor, even if it was the biggest lie ever. 

Darcy was pretty sure nobody important had stepped foot in that town again after good old SHIELD finished their cleanup of anything worth stealing for a souvenir. Or had that been Hydra back then? Must have had at least a few of their goons on the team given the level of destruction outing them all had caused, but that was neither here nor there. 

One way or another, here she was, not in New Mexico and not on a beach. Instead, she was on her way to the same Norwegian lab that she and Jane had been shipped off to years before. 

Apparently, having one astrophysicist-genius visit was enough motivation to make the lab actually _worth_ seeing this time around . So not the outcome Darcy had anticipated after waving goodbye to Nora and Liam, the two scientists they’d ended up sharing the space with last time. There was a shiny new toy there now , something that measured rays or lines or waves or polka dots – something _sciencey_ _,_ whatever it was – and with Thor MIA after their very uncomfortable and not exactly private breakup, Jane was all about the shiny new toys wherever she could find them. 

And yes, that meant _any_ shiny new toy, in _any_ back-end of nowhere laboratory, just so long as it helped further _the cause._ What that cause was exactly? Who knew ! Jane had never been too forthcoming about that bit. In fact, she’d resort to mumbling and note scribbling if Darcy tried to press her too hard, going so far as to start using 6-syllable words multiple times a sentence if things got _really_ interrogation-y . So , Darcy tried not to pry. Tried, being the keyword because sometimes she _did_ in fact like to broaden her vocabulary, and that was legit her favorite way of doing so. 

Getting brain-punched with a PhD was really helping her Scrabble game something serious. 

At the end of the day though, the more remote the lab, the more excited Jane would get about the visit. After hitting up Asgard, the adventure bug had clearly bit Jane’s petite little rear end pretty damn hard, and while Darcy was A-okay with seeing the sights, she _really_ wished these ones were a little more geographically relative to a Starbucks; or any coffee shop for that matter. 

And who funded these new excursions anyway? She had no clue, but she did have a feeling Stark Industries were involved somehow. Definitely wasn’t Culver, the cheap bastards, but hey, at least they’d used the good stock paper to send her degree on. That beautiful baby was framed up, wrapped in newspaper and buried at the bottom of a box somewhere. 

Whoever their money came from though the funds only went so far, and sadly, even being Thor’s ex didn’t come with any additional grant money stuffed into the old proverbial g-string. So yeah, they’d rented the cheapest POS transportation possible for this little road trip. 

The engine rumbled in a way that almost had Darcy praying again. The heater had broken ten miles out from the rental place, and there wasn’t a single cupholder in sight to house the thermos full of coffee balanced between her boots. Icing on the early-morning-crap-cake: her and Jane were scrunched in the backseat as they drove 20 MPH across an icy, narrow path over snow crusted hills that may or may not have seen another car in the last month. But hey, the GPS promised a short hour drive there and another ‘short’ hour drive back, so Jane had been okay with the discomforts. 

That made one of them at least. 

Darcy popped out an earbud to hear if the conversation had taken a turn for the interesting again since the last time she checked, the arguments on whether or not they’d clipped a mongoose twenty minutes ago a nice change of pace from the two men bickering up front about directions. 

“Look, we’re here.” Erik jabbed his finger into their honest-to-god paper map as he held it up for Ian to see from the driver’s seat. “Which means we only need to turn right at this fork, and then take a left to get back on track.” 

“Yes, but the GPS is telling me to keep left.” Insisted Ian, more politely than Darcy ever could have managed with a paper-map being shoved under her nose. Bless him. “I really think that we should—” 

“The GPS is wrong!” Erik argued, and Darcy popped her earbuds back in. 

Nope. She wasn’t touching that conversation with a ten-foot pole. 

Tilting her head to the side, she watched as frozen tree branches scraped against the glass in the overcast light of too-early-o'clock. She felt a knobby elbow push into her ribs for the umpteenth time and sighed, not even having to look over to know that Jane was sitting there mumbling to herself as she scribbled notes in her journal. 

Darcy closed her eyes and turned up Margaritaville instead, trying to picture herself sprawled out on a Captain America towel somewhere along a Florida beach, the sun beating down on her head while she sipped something mildly alcoholic. Something with an umbrella and an orange wedge. Some cute dude on the beach would have lathered her up with sunscreen already, and her only worry for the whole day would be when to flip herself so she didn’t burn too bad on one side. Yep; if it was up to her, the snow could just pucker up and take a nice big— 

—But Darcy suddenly felt weird. _Really_ weird. 

And she thought there was a scream ringing in her ear. Jane’s scream? Or was that Ian? She opened her eyes and thought she could see... _ashes?_ Her stomach turned and she felt sick. Lightheaded. Before she could really register anything else her body felt disturbingly lightweight. Not there. Her thoughts swam into darkness. 

And then she felt nothing. 

Nothing at all. 

Until... 

Darcy went careening forward headfirst with a surprised yelp and a nice helping of whiplash. 

Only there was no seat to stop her forward momentum. At all. And, as gravity ripped her downwards and fed her a mouth full of dirt and leaves and fresh blood from a newly busted lip, she had the distinct realization that there wasn’t a truck anymore either. Was there? _Nope_. That was gone too, along with the seat that should have caught her face. Jane was ‘oomphing’ to her left with her own surprise barrel-rolls, but Darcy was pretty engaged with her own sprawling to notice more beyond that. 

Her cheek took the brunt of impact and she knew from the instant burn that the skin there was shredded, but at least the several layers of clothing seemed to spare her anything worse. After a few more tumbles she rolled to a dazed and very confused stop, one earbud still miraculously in place as Jimmy Buffet wailed in her ear about ‘a woman to blame.’ She didn’t move for several long seconds, her brain trying very hard to piece together the events of the last few seconds and how they might add together to equal her being face down on a dirt path surrounded by singing birds, bright sunshine and an assload of snowless evergreens. 

“Are we dead?” She croaked, spitting out some of the debris on her tongue but still not in the right frame of mind to move anything more despite her glasses sitting painfully askew on her nose and crushing into her cheekbone. 

At least they hadn’t broken. _Miracle of miracles_. 

“What the—where—what—how did—” 

Jane’s voice stuttered through the same line of questioning that Darcy’s brain was grasping at, and she felt a little comforted by the fact that she wasn’t alone in feeling completely and totally banana balls. _No,_ she considered at last, _this is too insane to be insanity. My crazy would be_ _way_ _more fun than this_ _and_ _way_ _less faceplant-y._

With a pained groan Darcy pushed herself up, her cheek on fire and one of her eyes stinging from whatever dirt had jumped in there during her nosedive to the ground. She stared at her fingertips for a second as they dug into the dark earth, the mud beneath them cool to the touch and covered in the rotting remains of old foliage. 

_There’s n_ _o snow_. 

She looked up then and squinted, straightening her glasses, the sun high and hot and much more noon-time now than it had been a few minutes earlier. Where the hell had too-early-AM gone? And it was warm now. So warm in fact that Darcy was already beginning to sweat under her many layers of heavy-duty winter-wear. 

As beads formed along her lip, she turned her head, wincing as a pinched nerve shot a bullet of pain up to her temples. At least she could see Jane now. The scientist was standing on her knees, a frown on her face as she looked around them. She looked just as confused, a long gash on her forehead already dripping a disconcerting amount of blood down the side of her face. 

“This is weird, right?” Darcy asked, needing to confirm that notion verbally for her own peace of mind. 

“Weird? Yes. We were just in the truck.” Jane answered, her eyes daring around. “We were just in the truck and it was snowing.” 

“Yeah.” Darcy agreed. “Yeah okay. That’s what I thought too. Good to know it’s not just me.”

“We were in the _truck_.” Jane repeated, her eyes narrowing and doing a slower sweep of the area as if she’d missed an answer somewhere in the tree line. “In the truck. In the morning. In the snow, and...” 

Eyes widening, Jane looked down, then back, then forwards, then swung around and stared at Darcy. 

“My journal’s missing.” She finally sounded panicked rather than confused, and Darcy couldn’t hold back her bark of laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. 

“Really?” Darcy asked, incredulous. “The truck is missing. It’s hot as balls out. Snow, nowhere to be found. My glasses are all smudged up with mud. And you’re worried about your diary?” She could hear her voice rising with a hint of hysteria, but she couldn’t help it. 

This was insane! And despite the insanity, there was Jane, worried about her silly calculations and footnote doodles! 

“It’s not a diary.” Jane corrected, some of her panic dissolving back into confusion once she realized that the journal probably wasn’t the most important thing to be worried about right now. 

“And where’s Ian?” It was Darcy’s turn to look around, the sudden realization that her boyfriend was missing more compelling than the rest of their crazy situation. “Where’s Erik?” 

“We’ll call them.” Jane said, patting at her pockets. “Shit. I don’t have my phone.” 

Of course she didn’t. It had been charging on the dashboard of the truck because the woman never remembered to juice the damn thing up! 

“Probably wherever the truck is.” Darcy surmised, finally getting annoyed at Jimmy Buffet crooning on about booze in a blender. 

It was not making her feel warmer anymore, just increasingly hotter, and not in the good way. 

She pulled the lingering headphone out of her ear and lifted the phone. Yeah, okay; so maybe she wasn’t really the right person to bitch about Jane never charging. Her own battery was sitting at a pretty shade of red in the corner, but at least it was enough to make some calls. 

She waved it in the air to catch Jane’s attention. 

“Who first?” She asked, wanting to call Ian to make sure he was okay, but also really wanting somebody with more authority to send a rescue party ASAP, roaming costs be damned. 

“Erik.” Jane answered fast, climbing to her feet before muttering to herself, “quantum tunnel? No. Couldn’t be— but then again...” 

“Dialing.” Darcy announced in an effort to keep Jane’s beautiful brain in the here and now. 

Jane stopped talking as she punched the call button and waited. 

A second later she got the “all networks are busy at this time” message, something she didn’t really think was even possible this day and age. She frowned and tried again, the results the same. Third time was not a charm either. The next two calls were to Ian; the first one unsuccessful, though the second finally decided to ring through. 

“Jackpot!” Darcy shouted, holding the phone to her ear. 

It rang once. Twice. Three times. Four. Five. Six. 

Darcy counted to twelve before the call went to voicemail. 

“Now what?” She groaned as she waited for the prompt to leave a message. 

“We walk.” Jane answered, pointing up the road. “We were thirty minutes out by car, and that was at a snail’s pace. Shouldn’t take us more than an hour to get back to the Inn on foot. 

Darcy nodded, then started talking as soon as she heard the beep. 

“Ian, hey, it’s me, Darce. So like, I’m standing here with Jane. No clue where you, Erik, the truck and all the snow buggered off to, but we’re uh, gonna head back to the inn. I guess—call me back or something as soon as you get this. Please don’t like, be dead or something though, and please don’t be portaled off to someplace with no reception either. That would really suck. Hope you’re okay. And um, talk to you later, I guess.” 

She hung up and shrugged when Jane looked her way with a frown. 

“What?” 

“Portaled off someplace?” 

“Well yeah. I mean, like it’s possible right? What else could’ve happened?” 

Jane chewed at her lower lip and shook her head. 

“I don’t know.” She admitted. “But we’ll find out. Come on.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. So that's chapter one!
> 
> I haven't decided who all will get a POV yet with the exception of Darcy and Bucky. Possibly Jane too. Feel free to cast wishes though as I go along because like I said - nothing is written yet so anything is possible. I can't promise how often I'll update - I work full time and do school and write original stuff as well, so this and my other fic are basically my "brain needs a vacation" projects. Hopefully I don't disappoint anyone though, and I'm going to try real hard to not leave this unfinished.
> 
> \-----------  
> Also ugh. Just noticed days after uploading that the copy/paste from Word 365 to here added a bunch of crazy-random spaces all over the place, so sorry about that ugliness. I totally did not do that myself.


	2. The Returned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Jane look for answers.

_No more than an hour my butt,_ Darcy thought grimly with only a hint of bitterness and wonder at how a genius could possibly guestimate distance so very wrong; _ugh and seriously need to up my cardio-game._

She was desperate for a tall glass of water, and maybe even a shot of something else to quench the fact that nobody was calling her back and every other attempt at a phone call ended with the godforsaken ‘try your call again later’ message. She was down to two-percent power now and couldn’t help but check for new messages or missed calls every other minute on the off-chance that her ringtone disappeared along with their ride and their menfolk.

“Oh just turn it off for now.” Jane advised, her voice not nearly out-of-breath enough for Darcy’s liking, cause her boss totally didn’t work out any more than she did and that kind of natural stamina just wasn’t fair. “At least ‘til we can find someplace to recharge.”

“Turning it off feels so _wrong_ though!” She whined, doing so anyway. “Like cutting off a hand or an arm something. It’s a part of me Jane—it _is_ me.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“I am _not_ being dramatic!” Darcy shot back, dramatically for sure, but who could blame her!

She was panting now, their current part of the journey a seemingly unending uphill battle that she was surprised they hadn't slid down earlier that morning when the truck and snow were still a thing.

“But I _am_ tired.” Darcy went on, feeling an overwhelming urge to express her many, _many_ grievances now. “And I’m hot. My cheek is on fire. My ribs hurt. I’m confused. And my boyfriend may or may not have been abducted by weather-controlling aliens with portal-powers and a car-collecting hobby. I feel like if I _was_ being just an itty-bitty-tiny-bit dramatic, _Jane_ —which I’m totally not—then it would totally be justified.”

“I know. Can’t be too much further.” Was all Jane said in response, clearly taking the high road and not sending them headlong into a debate about the usefulness of histrionics.

And while it wasn’t much further, by the time they caught sight of the humble, two-story inn, the two women had long since stripped down, neither in the mood to lug winter clothes along as they limped toward sanctuary. Nope, that crap had gotten left by the trailside, which was kind of a bummer ‘cause Darcy really liked that coat and her outer-pair of faux-alpaca socks. They’d been so soft. So fluffy. So everything a person could want from a pair of socks pillaged out of a bargain bin.

She was down to the leggings and tunic now, her hoodie dangling from one hand while her jeans were slung over a shoulder. Those damn things fit like a dream; no way she was leaving _them_ behind no matter how long the march. Jane had stripped to her own standard jeans and t-shirt combo, flannel tied tight around her waist. Both had their hair up in messy ponytails, the collection of bands usually on Jane’s wrist finally paying off big time as sweat dripped down from their hairlines. It wasn’t even necessarily that hot, probably somewhere in the 60s, but the exertion of their uphill trudge added an extra 15 degrees easy.

Both women stopped at the top of the hill to catch their breath and stare at the building, each wearing a frown that said something along the lines of, ‘what the hell am I looking at and just... _what_?’

The building had changed.

Drastically.

The front door was missing for starters, and the sign hanging from the side was swinging by a single chain, the wood cracked in half and splintered like somebody had gone at it with a baseball bat. The whole exterior looked far less kept-up than it had before, and the surrounding trees were starting to lean in a little too closely. The grass was uncut with knee-high weeds touching every window, the gutters were growing little forests of their own, and there was just an overall look of abandonment to it. There were no lights on inside either, just another factor adding to a not so fun conclusion of them being utterly and absolutely screwed.

The place hadn’t been exactly lively that morning, but it had definitely _not_ looked post-apocalyptic.

“This is weird too right?” Darcy asked, beginning to feel a little unhinged.

“This is...” Jane didn’t even seem to have a word for what it was, because instead of finishing the statement she began to approach the building instead.

It took Darcy a second to realize the walking had started again, and once she did, she jogged to catch up.

“Jane. Wait. Seriously. Let’s think about this. Is this really a good idea? I mean, this is like, horror-movie level stuff here. Right? Abandoned building. Middle of the woods. Freaky abductions. What if there’s a killer inside?”

Jane looked at her.

“What if there’s a killer outside?” She asked, and the question so did not help Darcy feel better.

“That’s exactly my point here, Janie!” She grabbed her friend's wrist and pulled her to a stop, the first dark window already looming behind them and, so help her, if somebody peered out wearing a Joker grin, Darcy was sure she’d have a flat-out coronary right there and then; done and done. “Should we really be racing in all girl-detective style without knowing what’s up?”

“What other choice do we have?” Jane’s simple question was anything but simple, and whether she liked it or not, Darcy didn’t have an answer for it one way or another. “ _If_ the power still works, there’s a phone at the front desk we can use. I remember seeing it. We have to try at least.”

“This is creep-central.” She whined, but when Jane started forward again, she didn’t stop her.

They did walk a little closer to one another though as they neared the door. Together, they started to lean around the corner to peer inside the building. And then they both promptly froze. Voices. From inside. Hushed; one of them an older female, and the other a younger. Jane and Darcy shared a look.

Jane’s look said, _that’s good news, right? We should go investigate._

Darcy’s look shouted, _O.M.G. people! But what does it mean! What do we do! I am so not cut out for this crap so please just make a decision with that beautiful brain of yours cause otherwise I will stand out here all day and second guess every decision in my life and—_

—oh Jane was moving again.

The astrophysicist rounded the corner, one hand holding onto the door frame as she peered into the dim interior. Darcy leaned to the side to look over her shoulder, and the relief that spread through her stomach made her cough out an airy laugh. _Thank god_. No chainsaw wielding madmen.

Instead, there were two figures, both staring at them in equally-wide-eyed shock. One of the figures was a small girl with hair so blonde it was white. She sat on top of the front desk, her legs dangling off the side. She wore jeans and a bright yellow sweater with the sleeves rolled up, her feet clad in little boots that would have given any snow day a run for its money. The second person was a grown woman, presumably the kid’s mom. She stood in front of the child wearing similarly cold-weather-appropriate attire, sweat glistening on her forehead, her own darker blonde hair up in a ponytail that matched their own, haphazard and slapped on without a mirror.

The blonde woman started to speak as she turned to face them, shielding her daughter with an arm, but the words that spilled from her lips weren't even a little English. Nope. Pure Norwegian, which Darcy knew all of one sentence for, and even then, she wasn’t 100% certain anymore if it was to ask for a bathroom or if the other party spoke English.

The stranger’s tone was frantic, and Darcy got the distinct feeling that Mom was either A) asking the same questions they had before under the assumption that _they_ knew what the hell was going on or B) was trying to reason with two people who she probably thought were there to rob her or something.

Jane raised her hands up in the universal I’m-not-armed-and-I'm-not-going-to-murder-you signal as she took a slow step forward.

“We’re American.” She started, voice steady as a mother-F'ing rock and Darcy loved her all the more for the much-needed levelheadedness. “Neither of us speak Norwegian. Can you understand English? Speak it?”

The mom frowned.

“Americans?” She asked, accent thick. “You—you checked in this morning, yes? With my husband.”

“Yeah.” Jane’s shoulders sagged with relief, and Darcy could feel her own do the same. “Yeah, we were just here like, a few hours ago. Came with two other people. What,” she waved at the place, “what _happened_ here?”

“I am not sure. We were out in the back, playing, and then—then my little girl she—she—” tears glistened in her eyes, and the woman reached back for her daughter as if to make sure she was really there. “I was certain that she was—but then I felt so strange. I fell, I think. Not long after, and we were on the ground then, but the snow had gone. Jakob, he was nowhere, and our home. Like this.” She motioned to the building.

The small girl said something in her native tongue, drawing her mother’s attention. The woman nodded, kissed the child on the crown of her head, then turned to them again.

“As Sofie says, our dog is gone too. Natt was in the garden with us, and then she was not. She would not come to calls either.”

“You guys don’t know any more than we do then.” Jane stated with a heavy sigh. “What about the power? Do you have electricity? A working phone? Anything?”

The woman shook her head.

“We have nothing. There is no food here. No electricity. Everything has been stolen.” Her eyes welled up again and she wiped them away, making sure her daughter couldn’t see them. “Family pictures. Everything.”

“Who steals pictures?” Darcy asked out loud, the whole situation making zero sense.

“Nobody.” Jane answered, her frown back and deeper than ever before she muttered, “nobody does. I guess,” she paused and glanced at Darcy and the woman in turn. “I guess let’s see if we can find some water and a first aid kit. We can clean up a little and then start walking again. The town isn’t too far out from here. Couple hours walking maybe. We’ve got to find a working phone and some power.”

“And hopefully somebody with more answers then we have?” Darcy added.

“And hopefully that. Oh!” She smiled at the woman they’d just met and held out her hand, approaching for a shake. “I’m Jane, by the way. This is Darcy.”

“Nina.” The mom answered, shaking Jane’s hand with a smile of her own. “And this is Sofie.”

They managed to find a small first aid kit in an upstairs closet after that, and while Nina and Sofie went looking for water, Jane and Darcy sat together in one of the guest bathrooms. While Jane stood at the sink and dabbed at the cut on her forehead with some cotton and alcohol, Darcy sat on the toilet and considered everything they knew up to now.

At first she thought maybe it was just the weather that had changed and maybe they’d loss a few hours of time or something, but the state of the inn suggested more than that; either more time lost or an altogether different scenario.

“Maybe _we_ were the ones portaled.” She said aloud as the thought struck her.

“Hmm?” Jane sounded, her eyes darting over for a second.

“Instead of Ian and Erik. Maybe we were the ones portaled or abducted or whatever. I mean, like, we thought it was the weather that changed. Right? But maybe it’s not. Maybe we’re in an alternative universe or something, I don’t know, like, one where they don’t exist, or the weather is different or just...” she sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m guessing. I know. But this sucks.”

“It’s okay. Any theory is an option at this point. You could even be right. Until we have more data though, we could hypothesize all day and still not be any closer to the truth. I _do_ like the idea of visiting an alternate Earth though.”

Darcy laughed.

“Figured you would Space-girl. You been looking for an adventure since the whole intergalactic vaycay with He Who Shall Not Be Named. You’re all like, adrenaline-junky now.”

Jane smirked.

“You _can_ say his name you know. I’m a big girl.”

“I know, but still, I’m totes on Team-Jane, so _He_ shall remain unnamed to these lips ‘til he gives you an on his knees, rose in his mouth apology complete with like, _all_ the chocolate.”

The two shared a smile and a laugh, and after forty minutes or so they’d both gotten their wounds treated—as best they could be—and their ponytails a little less cavewoman-esque. Darcy switched to her jeans and slipped the hoodie back on over her top, the chilly air finally getting to her now that her heart wasn’t trying to make a bongo out of her ribcage.

They met Nina and Sofie back down in the kitchen, pleased to find that the other two had wrangled up some water. They’d apparently had a rain barrel in the back, and after finding a couple of glass bottles in a recycle bin, they bottled up some water with corks from some kind of framed, rustic cork collection and even gathered up a shopping bag full of plums from a tree in their back yard.

“We ready to go?” Jane asked as she surveyed them all, having offered to carry the single backpack they shared between them first.

“Sir, yes, sir.” Darcy said, giving a two-finger salute and a grin, her mood better than before now that they weren’t the lone survivors of whatever the hell had happened anymore and were on their way to civilization.

The next hours saw them trudging along the side of a country road, not a person to be seen, and nothing at all of interest. They neared the village several hours later, a town whose name Darcy could legit not even pronounce, and their walking time slowed by the need to either ease up the pace for Sofie or carry her. Nina carried their bag of dwindling fruit and water while Sofie hung onto Darcy’s back like the most adorable spider-monkey ever, and that's when they caught sight of the tall wooden cross sitting beside the sign that welcomed them across the town border. A list of names seemed to run straight down the middle of the cross.

“What’s that for?” Darcy asked as she bounced Sofie’s knees higher up on her hips again.

“I am not sure.” Nina answered, coming to a stop in front of it. She pointed to the long sentence sitting on the horizontal beam. “It says here, ‘To those we lost, may your souls be found by God,’ and then—then there is a list of names here. Of people. People I know.”

Jane frowned and stepped up to Nina’s side. She pointed as well then, to the small date carved in at the top of the cross.

“Isn’t that today’s date?” She asked.

“It is.” Nina answer, her eyes scrolling down the list until she suddenly gasped and said something sharply in Norwegian that made her daughter gasp as well. “Sorry, skatten min,” she said absently to her daughter before kneeling and pointing to a name. “I do not understand. But—this—this is my name. And Sofie’s here is below. But why...”

They all stood there for a moment of prolonged silence, not a single thing making a lick of sense to any of them. Darcy was starting to feel like they’d gotten onto a rollercoaster to the Twilight Zone, and she was damn ready to get off the ride. In fact, she was ready to stop liking that show altogether and made a note to delete it off her Netflix queue. She could do with less weird for a while.

“I think we should keep going.” Jane said at last. “Ask whoever we see first; find out what’s going on before we jump to any conclusions.”

When they got to the village though, things just got more Twilight Zone than ever.

There was only a single road that led forward through the small town, well-spaced, colorful houses standing on either side. Nobody was out on the main street, but they could hear people inside some of the first homes they passed. Laughter, music and celebration from the first two. A muted television in the third. Raised voices—a fierce argument—from the next. All normal things until the abandoned vehicles were taken into account, one of them rammed right into a telephone pole with not a single rubbernecker standing watch, another sitting halfway through a wall in the fifth house, and one more further up the street just wailing away with an unattended car alarm.

They were ready to start banging on doors when finally, they saw a man outside, hair gray and clothes rumpled, standing beside his front door. His face was long as he shot a thousand-yard stare off into the distance and smoked a cigarette. He didn’t seem too concerned about the wrecked cars or howling alarm either.

Nina rushed to him and began speaking.

The older man stared at her as she spoke, then shook his head and muttered something, pointing further into town. They went back and forth for a while before Nina turned back to them, a look of defeat on her face as she rejoined their sides.

“He says he cannot say what has happened. That there are no word for it. There is a place a little way further, Gregers, where he says many people have gathered. They serve food there, and drinks. It’s a—a—how do you say—”

She struggled to find the word, so Darcy took a stab.

“A bar? Tavern? Pub?”

“Yes, that. There is a phone there at the—where they serve the drinks, and a television. He says that we must watch the news, but he will say no more.”

“Did he say anything about the date? About today?” Jane asked.

“He seems to think that it is September second, two thousand twenty-three.” Nina gave a short, strained laugh that had nothing to do with thinking the man’s sense of time was funny. “But... He must be wrong. Yes? That cannot be true.”

Darcy looked between the two women, her heart beginning to thud just a little stronger than before, less from having a kid use her like a set of monkey bars and more from the building sense of unease that was coiling tighter and tighter in her chest and stomach. No sir, she did _not_ like this. Whatever _this_ was.

“Let’s find this place with the phone and TV.” Jane said at last, her face impossible to read.

Nobody spoke a word as they made their way to the tavern, but once they reached it, there was no question that this was definitely the happenest place in town. The old man from before hadn’t been exaggerating. The building was large, may have even been a motel as well on the upper levels, but half the town—maybe even more—seemed to be congregating behind its weather-worn blue walls.

The doors were thrown wide open, the windows cracked, and people were crowded inside well beyond what the fire department probably suggested as a safe and legal limit. A couple stood in the doorway embracing, their eyes cast inward to somewhere else, and despite the huge group, there was no roar of music or conversation. Sofie reached out for her mother and Darcy traded over the kid for the bag, and then they moved to join the crowd of locals and their too-eerie quiet.

Nina spoke out to the couple in the doorway as soon as they were close enough.

After only a few sentences were exchanged, the couple’s faces, already lined by too many worry, curled up with sympathy. The woman said quite a bit to Nina, and as she spoke, their companion’s posture seemed to tense, the grip on her daughter growing tighter. Nina argued back, but the man spoke then too, his tone sad but insistent. Jane and Darcy exchanged looks, neither of them sure what to think of it all, and both wishing they’d studied up on Norwegian with a little more enthusiasm.

At long last Nina turned back to them.

“What did they say?” Jane asked.

“I find myself in disbelief.” Nina stated, wearing a frown. “What they say—it—it is impossible.”

“Well what is it?” Darcy asked this time, the tension in her stomach teetering along the edge of nausea.

“They say that we are among those returned. The lost souls listed on the cross. They say that five years has passed, that we were all vanished. Killed or, maybe taken they think now. They are not certain. They only know that one day we were here, and then we were not.”

“Five years.” Jane breathed, and Darcy could tell the astrophysicist believed it. “How?”

Nina shook her head.

“A man from far away. Another planet. They called him Thanos, and say that he is to blame. And they say that it was not only here. It was everywhere. The whole world. The whole _universe_. So many people. But now, now they are back. It is on the television they say.”

"I need to see.” Jane’s face was set with determination as she moved forward, and Darcy followed after feeling absolutely dumbfounded.

They had to be wrong. Right? Five years? No way. It was too batshit to even consider.

The three women—and toddler in tow—shoved their way into the building, pushing through the crowds with plenty of apologies and ‘excuse me’s. There were short waves of conversation that ebbed and flowed like a tide, every head craning to get a glimpse of the TV near the bar or whispering to their neighbor for an update or to exchange gossip of some kind.

As they wove their way through, news coverage must have updated to something particularly juicy. There was a swell of tinny sirens from the TV speakers, and then a ripple of gasps spread across the room as some Norwegian reporter spoke to the camera.

Every few steps Nina would stop and talk to somebody, one such pause pulling her into a tight hug with people Darcy could only assume knew her. By the time they got close to the bar, only a single line of people separating them from the counter and the TV beyond, Nina’s eyes were scouring the room, her eyes lined with tears as she stood on the tips of her toes to try and get a better look.

“Everything okay?” Darcy asked, laying a hand on her arm, her other arm linked with Jane’s.

“My husband.” Nina answered. “Herr Bogen just told me that he thinks he is here. He said after we were lost, my Jakob could not continue living or working in our home. That is why it looked this way. I must—I must find him.”

Darcy tugged on Jane and pulled her to a stop.

“Nina’s off to find her hubby,” she explained when Jane gave her a stern glare at being deviated from her mission to the screen.

“I will find you both again after.” Nina promised, turning away and melting into the crowd before either of them could say another word.

“Come on.” Jane pulled Darcy along, the two of them squeezing between two towering men dressed like they were ready to go cut down some trees.

They leaned against the wooden bar counter, a television hanging from the wall overtop the row of liquor bottles. The scene playing out on the screen was beyond belief, and Darcy felt her jaw drop open as she stretched forward to get a better look. Whatever news station was on air, they had their broadcast split into four different streams, each one showing a different view.

The top left camera was locked onto a major highway. Cars sat crashed into one another or swerved off the road, some smoking, others not. What looked like bodies, a lot of bodies, were laying along the way, each one covered in either sheets or jackets or various blankets. An arm stuck out from under a small car, a streak of red smeared below it. The front of a semi was covered in unrecognizable gore. The entire stretch was flashing under the lights of a dozen emergency vehicles, groups of people huddled along the sides of the roads, some crying, some in shock, some trying to help where they could.

The top right camera had Norwegian subtitles running along the bottom, the footage apparently American in origin, though their voices were muted in favor of the top left footage. It looked like a warzone, wherever the video feed was coming from. There was the ruin of a large building and charred craters everywhere, but no bodies. It was obviously the site had placed host to a huge battle of some kind, but not it only reflected the aftermath of one. Darcy managed to catch the word _Avenger_ in the subtitles, though nothing else indicated it had anything to do with the—as last heard on the dark web—disbanded dream team.

The bottom left was of a news room at that moment, the reporter sitting beside a person who was pale and looking just as confused as Darcy felt. It looked like an interview of sorts, though the person being interviewed looked like any other person she’d ever seen sitting behind a news desk, complete with tacky shoulder pads and the much too perfect makeup/hair combination.

Eyes flitting to the last remaining square of footage, Darcy felt her breath catch. It was being recorded from a helicopter that circled high above a neighborhood somewhere, the architecture European, maybe Nordic, and the caption running along the bottom streaming words that could have meant anything.

Sprawled across the rooftops though, and a small cul-de-sac lined by small but beautiful homes, were the crumpled and deflated bodies of people. Dozens of them, each one surrounded by a pool of their own blood, and other things that Darcy didn’t even want to guess at. Her stomach lurched. Gutters on two of the roofs ran red, the shingles stained and dripping. Only a few local police were in sight, their hands full with trying to keep horrified neighbors away from the bodies as one of the men on ground tried to waved the helicopter off.

Darcy’s full attention stayed on that small square in the bottom right corner, her heart pounding louder and louder in her ears as the picture of a plane was pulled up. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it looked like it had to do with passengers from some random flight. The footage shifted to a recording made by somebody’s cellphone, video from a passenger on a plane.

People screamed soundlessly in the muted coverage as more than half the people on board turned into ash, the dusty particles filling the air and drifting on the currents. The video tilted as the person recorded was jostled, then it cut away, back to the rooftops and the bodies spread across them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this isn't too slow going, but I really wanted to touch on some of the horrible aftermath that must have happened in those first hours after everyone came back.
> 
> Next chapter will be a little less drawn out though a think, and will probably cover a longer period of time, maybe a couple weeks or so at least.


	3. Catching up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first weeks back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh sorry for the update confusion to anyone subscribed. I had a snafu with my upload. D: 
> 
> That said, I wanted to get this out as fast as I can, so as usual, apologies for errors! I don't have a beta reader and I get too excited about posting to edit for any length of time myself. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The next hour passed in a heavy haze of suffocating emotion and the overpowering smell of unwashed bodies and stale beer. Nearly everyone present had been packed in the place for hours, sweating out their fear and anxiety and horror. The murmur of their conversation rose and fell around her in waves of undistinguishable noise, the language more foreign than ever as a never-ending stream of terrible images flashes across the television screen, words not really needed to convey the atrocities. 

Darcy was jostled as people moved to and from the bar, ordering drinks while the news coverage rolled on and on, never lacking for more. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but as some point she and Jane had locked hands and pressed against one another, their touching arms the sole source of comfort in a world neither of them recognized anymore. 

Another hour went by. 

Then another. 

It seemed like some of the coverage was finally growing repetitive as the world slowly came to grips with everything and people worked together to stem the flow of blood and chaos and death. Jane’s hand was missing, Darcy realized, but she wasn’t sure when that had happened either. 

How long had she even been standing there? 

Was it still the same day; for her, at least? The same day she’d woken up to go with Jane and Ian and Erik to do science on shiny new equipment at a shitty old lab out in the middle of nowhere Norway, suffering from jetlag and the frustrations of an unexpected cold snap? It was hard to reconcile her own perceived passage of time with what the calendars and screens and people around her insisted. 

To her, the hours could have been counted off with her fingers alone. 

Her attention flitted to the man beside her. His eyes were brimming with unshed tears. Happy; sad; worried? She couldn’t tell. Back to the screen; a reporter; something about children who’d been on a school bus five years ago and were now scattered dead across a freeway if the vivid imagery was anything go to by. But maybe none of this was real? Maybe this was some crazy ass nightmare or drug induced shit-trip? She hadn’t taken anything though, or? 

The bartender had been cleaning that same glass for thirty minutes. Or maybe it had been an hour and thirty minutes? Was her sense of time something she could even trust anymore? A woman was crying somewhere loudly from elsewhere in the room. 

A hand touched her shoulder and Darcy started. 

“Just me.” Jane said as she leaned in. “Give me your phone. There’s a guy down on the far end of the counter; says there’s a plug there we can use. He has the right adapter.” 

Darcy handed the phone over with barely a nod. 

“We’re going to be okay.” Jane said then, her fingers wrapping around Darcy’s hand and the phone, squeezing tight in what should have been a reassuring gesture, but all Darcy could really think about was what some guy at the end of the bar needed her phone for. “Once everything settles down. You’ll see. Everything’ll be fine.” 

There was a lead knot in Darcy’s throat that she couldn’t seem to swallow, so all she did was nod again. 

It didn’t matter why some stranger in the bar wanted her phone. Shit was too awful right now. Too real. 

Was it real? Half of her wasn’t sure. 

She wanted to tell Jane it wasn’t that simple either. Everything wasn’t just fine because a person said it was. 

Darcy found a second of clarity, and her vision started to blur with tears. She wanted to scream for somebody to give her a working phone. She wanted to find a computer and look at her e-mail to verify—to verify— no. She couldn’t even finish the thought. 

_Don’t think about._

And so she didn’t. 

Darcy let her eyes fall back to the television screen, watching, but not really seeing. Waiting; hoping that she’d just wake up from this hellish dream already. 

Sometime later Jane startled her again, pressing the phone against her arm while pushing a mixed drink across the bar top to her. 

“Triple shot, whiskey with a splash of coke.” Jane gave her a tight smile that looked more like a grimace—maybe it was a grimace, what did she know anymore—the smell of whiskey already on her friend’s breath. 

“Ready to turn it on?” She asked, the expression on her face not all that eager. 

Yeah... 

Darcy wasn’t eager either, she realized, taking the phone and then pulling in a deep breath. A big part of her didn’t want to turn it on, preferring to stay in the unsettling darkness of what wasn’t known. Would Erik reach out? Ian? What about—what about—? She could feel the corner of her eyes stinging again and forced the heavy knot down her throat at long last. She lifted the glass and downed it all in four swallows. 

Jane leaned against her, and with her friend’s support and the sweet whiskey warming her throat and belly, Darcy turned the power on. 

Notifications streamed in with a series of chirps and chimes. E-mails, missed calls, text messages, emergency alerts. She glanced at the missed calls first. 

One from Erik. Three from Ian. No others... 

Text messages next. The oldest one was from Erik. 

**_Darcy??? Is this really you? Is Jane with you? Call me. Or text if the lines don’t work. Or e-mail. E-mail is best, I think. I’ll send you one now. E-mail me straight away, as soon as you get this. You or Jane._**

She let Jane read before scrolling through the next messages. These were all from Ian. 

**_Darcy?_**

**_That you?_**

**_Is this real?_**

**_Are you alive???_**

**_Is this really you??_**

**_Please answer..._**

**_I think I’ve gone mad. Again. Tho, suppose it wasn’t mad the first time, was it then? Maybe I don’t know what’s real anymore._**

**_The TV says everyone is back! Are you there?_**

**_Dr. Selvig just sent me an e-mail. He said he missed a call from you! Does that mean you’re really alive? Why won’t you answer my messages?_**

**_Darcy please. I need you to answer me. Please!_**

**_Are you there?_**

They’d all come in over the last several hours, and while she wanted to e-mail Erik to let him know they were fine, she needed to hear Ian’s voice first, needed to let him know she was alive. Darcy dialed him back, but the ring quickly degraded into the ‘all networks busy’ message that she’d gotten earlier, and she let out a huff of frustration. 

“Son of a bitch.” She muttered, then switched over to text him instead. 

**_Hey. Yeah, it’s me. Just got back this today. Apparently?? Don’t even know what to think. Head is pounding with all this shit, and I don’t even know how to deal right now. Feel like I’m beyond looney toons. Glad to hear you’re okay. Guessing you didn’t get zapped off with me and Jane? You weren’t there when we ‘landed’ so yeah..._**

She paused for a moment, took a deep breath, then added: 

**_You haven’t heard anything from my family, have you? Nobody answered my calls earlier before my phone died and it’s a crapshoot getting anything through right now. Nobody has texted me back either and I’m seriously worried._**

She hit send, then handed the phone over to Jane and lifted her glass. 

“I need another half-dozen of these.” She said. “Pronto. You want something?” 

“Yeah, but I’m all out of money.” Jane took the phone and opened Darcy’s e-mail, hitting reply to Erik’s message. 

“It’s cool. My boob stash survived the trip so the next few rounds are on me.” Her voice sounded strange to her own ears, and she realized other than the curse, it had been hours since she’d said anything out loud. 

She felt detached from reality just then, standing in a bar just chatting with Jane over who’d get next round. Fuck. Was this all really happening? 

“We’ll need to find a place to stay for the night too.” Jane mumbled as she tapped out a response. “So maybe don’t spend everything.” 

“Screw that. We'll worry about beds after we’re drunk.” Darcy declared, that first drink only teasing the sudden thirst she had and the pleasant burn spreading the whisper of something normal through her body. 

It felt more real than anything else and she wanted more. Needed it. 

When she returned with four glasses, two for her and two for Jane, Nina had found them again. 

There was a man standing at her side, Sofie’s little form slumped and sleeping tight in his arms. He had his nose buried in the girl’s hair and breathed her in and out, his face teetering somewhere between disbelieve and desperation. Deep creases lined his forehead and the space between his eyebrows; frowns had clearly visited him more than laughter these past years. Darcy got it. If he’d lost his wife and daughter for—what was it again, five?—five long years, never knowing if he’d see them again... 

She forced a smile and slid two of the glasses to Jane as she squeezed back into place near them. 

“Darcy!” Nina said, beaming; too happy; too normal. “This is my husband, Jakob.” 

“Hey.” She said, giving him a toast with her first glass before knocking it back fast. “Pleasure to meet ya. Jane; phone?” 

“Thank you so much for bringing Nina here.” Jakob gave a smile of his own, this one tight too, like it hadn’t seen much use lately and hell, it probably hadn’t, right? Given the circumstances. 

Jane held the phone to her chest instead of handing it over and spoke fast, probably sensing the sarcastic remark that was building on Darcy’s tongue at Jakob’s statement. As if they’d brought the woman there just to be good Samaritans. 

“They said they have a spare room we can use. ‘Til we can find a ride back to the US at least.” 

“Oh yeah?” Darcy set the empty glass down and grabbed her next one. “That’s cool. Ian write back yet? Or anyone?” 

Jane grabbed own of her drinks and took a big gulp, the phone still pressed against her sternum with one hand. She had a strange expression that Darcy couldn’t get a read on, but she was two triples in, and her head was feeling a little lighter than before, so you know, no surprise there. Her people skills got stupid dumb when she drank, which was exactly where she wanted them right now anyway. 

“Let’s go grab some air real fast.” Was all Jane said before she started weaving her way through the crowd toward the door, leaving Darcy no other choice but to follow. 

With a frown she did, taking her drink with and wondering what the hell was up now. Maybe Jane had to pee or something and the bathroom line was too long cause damn was this place crowded. She found Jane outside, several yards from the building, clear across the street. She joined her, then took an exaggerated breath in and out. 

“Mmm air. Good. Yay, we’re outside. Now what’s up? Why’re we out here?” 

The sun had set, and the night was cold. Darcy regretted leaving her hoodie on the barstool, but before she could say as much and go in after it, Jane cleared her throat and crossed her arms, the phone tucked under one arm while she cradled the half-full glass in her other hand. 

“So I—” she paused, bit her lip, then started again. “I didn’t mean to look Darce, but Ian wrote back and I just—well I just—I thought you shouldn’t be stuck in there when you—when you...” 

Jane took in a shuddering breath, her face curling up into—into what; a look of pain? Despair? Pity?—but instead of saying anything else she just handed the phone over, then reached out and plucked Darcy’s glass right out of her fingers. 

A strange fog settled into Darcy’s mind as she took the phone and unlocked it, a sharp and building pain fluttering to life inside her stomach. She opened Ian’s response. The screen started to blur as she read it, and the heavy lump from before filled her throat. It was larger than before. So heavy it threatened to bring her to her knees. Breathing was hard, like some great big hand was reaching down to squeeze the air right out of her. Was that her gasping? 

“Just breathe.” Jane said, and Darcy realized then that she was being pulled into a hug, something wet and hot scorching a trail down her cheeks. 

Tears. She was crying. 

She couldn’t breathe. 

The phone dropped from her hand as she buried her face into the crook of Jane’s neck, giant sobs erupting with a force that almost bowed her over, her friend’s arms the only thing keeping her up. She squeezed her eyes shut but Ian’s message persisted. Tiny, black, inescapable words, the unwritten message just as goddamn detailed as the written one. 

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...._

Her whole body shook as she hung onto Jane, her friend’s whispers of comfort filling her ear as fingers ran through her hair. Her chest was tight. Her stomach burned. Her throat burned too, and suddenly Darcy had to vomit. She wrenched away from Jane, moving sideways before collapsing to her knees and throwing up. Her stomach heaved as everything came back; the drinks; the dead children on the freeway; the chips or peanuts or whatever they’d passed her to snack on; the bodies on the rooftops; bits of fruit; a lot of whiskey; and if she was lucky—really lucky—pieces of her shattered heart would be in there too. 

Darcy squeezed her eyes shut and cried as she gagged and panted and tried to pull in air, one of Jane’s hands on her back a second later, another holding her hair up and out of the line of fire. She squeezed her eyes tighter, willing the text message to vanish, but the words just flared up brighter than ever against the burst of rainbow star bursts that filled the space behind her eyelids. 

**_...two years ago..._**

**_...couldn’t move on..._**

**_…Lucas and your dad disappeared off that flight..._**

**_...tried to reach out to her, see if she was okay..._**

**_...didn’t leave a note..._**

**_...small funeral..._**

**_...I’m so sorry..._**

* 

Bucky stood between Steve and Sam, arms folded as he watched the rear ramp close on the Quinjet carrying Stark’s body and Stark’s grieving widow. He wasn’t sure if the two were married, didn’t seem the right time to ask, but it didn’t matter. Labels didn’t dictate emotion and she was a widow no matter what the paperwork said. He could see that much on her face. They were the only ones leaving; only ones who deserved to leave; rest of them still had work to do. 

“He was a good man.” Steve said, his voice quiet, like he wasn’t sure the words should be said.

Maybe he thought saying them, or putting the man in the past tense, would make it more real. Unspoken or not; didn’t matter. What happened, happened. He was gone either way. 

“Yeah.” Bucky agreed. He still remembered Stark trying to kill him, but hell, wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it. His hands had killed Stark’s parents, and he’d’ve killed a man for even less than that himself. “He was.” 

“Saved a lot of lives.” Sam added, giving more weight to the sacrifice. “A _lot_ of lives.” 

“Yeah.” Bucky agreed again. “He did.” 

Cleanup wasn’t as easy as they thought it’d be. 

All the enemies had been cleared clean off the board sure, spaceships and all, but while Bucky was still trying to wrap his brain around the talking racoon, walking tree, flying saucers and all the other crazy shit standing around him now, there’d also been news ‘copters in the sky and a lot of reports saying that they didn’t win as well as they thought they’d had. It made Stark’s sacrifice a bitter pill to swallow. 

Victory sure, and while the numbers were still on their side, the total reported dead off the battlefield was staggering. 

The big green guy, who’d been so helpful at first, was grim and dour after hearing the news. He stood by himself with that same thousand yard stare the boys back in the war would get. Bucky recognized that look. Still. More people had come back than were lost in the return trip. That had to count for something. Right? Had to. 

It took three days for phones to come back with any steady regularity, but international travel was still impossible without a private jet and runway. Flights were packed with people trying to get home, trying to get to loved ones, trying to get to anywhere but where they were. It was an ugly mess, and people were getting desperate. And desperation, Bucky knew, could lead to some real bad decision making. If half the assholes in the world had been wiped off the face of the planet, they were back now and probably coming out with a swing. 

A hotline had been created to help the folks who returned; a second one set up for the ones who’d gotten left behind. Helping people find one another wasn’t such a simple task, and governments across the globe were working at it together. Large buildings of all kinds were getting used as emergency centers as cities everywhere ground to a halt in all the madness. 

That was the civilians though. 

To Bucky and the rest, as bad as it sounded, anyone who hadn’t been there at the battle was on the peripheral. Stark’s funeral was getting arranged and Pepper, the woman he’d left behind, was doing everything in her power to fly the people who would really give a damn in for it. Bucky couldn’t offer much—nothing really—but him, Steve and Sam volunteered to play pick up where they could. 

Two weeks later it was time for the memorial; Stark’s body cremated more than a week before in a private gathering that not even Steve had been invited to. Nobody had notified the press yet, or the world, and that probably wouldn’t happen for another week or two still, after the rawness of it all faded. 

Bucky didn’t own a suit, but he owned plenty enough black. He’d already been given the heads up that some asshole named Thaddeus would be there too; a man with a hardon for seeing him in prison. Steve had assured him that not a damn person in the world would dare disrupt the memorial. Bucky was glad for it. He wasn’t sure he had another fight left in him, least not this soon after the last. 

He was too damn tired for any of it, and he found himself wanting to return to the small home back in Wakanda to watch the sun set again. 

Then he was standing there with Sam and Wanda and watching as the Stark family pushed a bit of Ironman out into the water. The day was cool, but the air was sweltering with emotion. He’d never known Stark well enough to call the man a friend and be pained by the loss, but what he did feel was a deep stab of regret and guilt. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from killing Stark’s parents. He hadn’t been able to stop Stark from dying. He’d failed the whole family so far, but he made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t do that again. No. Pepper and the kid would always have a soldier at the ready if they needed one. 

Sam laid a hand on his back then, and Bucky had half a mind to ask if he could read minds or something. Even though the gesture was a little alarming—made him second guess how well he could control his facial expressions—he appreciated it all the same. Sam couldn’t understand, not really, but it was nice to know someone at least sympathized. 

A week after that, after they’d had another private memorial for Natasha, Steve pulled him aside for a conversation that wasn’t exactly surprising, but still felt like a kick to the chest.

They sat together in some hole-in-the wall bar, middle of Brooklyn, middle of the day, both drinking but neither of them getting drunk. Steve was telling him about the plan, about taking the rocks back to where and when they’d come from, laying out the whole operation and how he intended to do it before finishing it all with a one-two knockout.

“And I wanna stay back. For as long as I can.”

Bucky smirked. He figured it was coming, especially after he’d heard the story of how they beat Thanos in the first place. He knew why. It hurt, hearing his friend admit to choosing a woman over their friendship, but damned if Steve didn’t deserve a little happiness after everything. It hurt, but he’d be no friend at all if he didn’t support the guy.

“For Peggy?” He asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Leave it to Steve to carry a torch for one dame a hundred years running. His buddy smiled and nodded his head, eyes focused on the rim of his beer.

“If she’ll have me.”

“Figured as much. Gonna miss you, pal.”

“You could come with.” Steve looked at him finally, and Bucky had to admit the offer had some appeal.

He missed the good old days sure, but no matter how much his heart might’ve ached for it, there was no going back. Not for him. He wasn’t that man no more; not after the war then, not after Hydra, and not after the war now. He’d end up just another deadbeat vet if he went back, following Steve around like some kicked dog looking for a family. Steve would have Peggy and what would he have? Just a head full of ugly memories and a whole lot of regrets.

“Nah.” He said at last. “I couldn’t.”

“I know.” Steve answered with a sigh, and both men stopped to take a long pull from their beer.

“World’s gonna miss the Captain though.” Bucky said, giving his friend a sidelong glance.

“No, they won’t.” Steve set his bottle down and faced him. “Take the shield, Buck. Be the new Captain America.”

There was a pregnant pause, and Bucky took in a deep breath, running his hand down his beard as he collected his thoughts. He’d had a feeling this conversation was coming too, especially once Steve going back in time was a possibility, and he’d already had this answer thought out.

“You know I’m not Captain material.” He said at last, staring at the wall of liquor lining the wall on the other side of the counter. “I got no leadership to give, and I sure as hell don’t want the job either. You and me both know who the better man would be.”

“You’re a good man too, Buck.” Steve argued.

“Not good enough to be Captain America. Besides,” he looked over. “You think the world is ready for an international terrorist to take up the mantle of America’s most beloved patriot?”

“You know Sharon and Maria are working on getting you that pardon.”

“I know, but they can’t erase the past. Whether a piece of paper says so or not, I've got too much innocent blood on my hands, and that’s not what the shield needs. You know it. I know it. And I also know you’re only askin’ cause we’re old friends.”

“That’s not—!”

“Yeah it is.” Bucky said with a sly smile. “Don’t even lie. Sam’ll be a good Captain. Might be a real bastard now and then, but he’s a damn good guy.”

They both faced forward again and drank, neither speaking for some time. Wasn’t necessary. They both knew how the other felt. Their friendship had faced more than most, and while they’d both miss one another, they couldn’t hang on to a past they’d never get back to. That life was gone. Steve’s heart had never left the 40’s, and Bucky had to find out where the Hydra has hidden his; if it even could be found.

“When you going?” He asked. 

“Soon.” Steve answered.” Banner, Pym and Selvig are working to rebuild the tech. Last I checked they were close. A week? Maybe two.” 

“Maybe we should try to catch a game before you go. Put those baseball caps to better use than staying off the radar.” 

Steve laughed. 

“Ain’t had an interest in baseball since I learned the Dodgers got moved out to L.A.” 

“The future.” Bucky chuckled and shook his head. “Who’d’ve thought it would look like this.” 

* 

Darcy stood in the kitchen doorway and watched them eat. Nina, Jakob, Jane and Sofie. They looked happy there at the table, breakfast spread across the space between them as they chatted about what was going on in the world. There were plenty of rumors. Tony Stark; dead. Captain America missing; presumed dead. Natascha Romanov, the woman who’d released all the SHIELD and Hydra files; presumed dead. 

An official press conference was scheduled to take place in a few days, and while that kind of thing might’ve interested Darcy before _the blip_ , she found she couldn’t care about much of anything right now. A blanket of numb indifference kept her cocooned most days, curled in bed and daydreaming about all the family holiday’s she’d never have again. Sometimes she would close her eyes and dream of the past, the memories so vivid and clear they almost scared her. 

She could smell her mother’s banana bread; no nuts included because her mom knew she’d complain about it. She could hear her brother’s obnoxious laugh as he beat her in a round of some fighting game she’d only heard of in passing. She could see the creases in her dad’s eyes when he’d try to talk serious to her mother, but he’d always end up smiling anyway and the pair of them would burst into laughter like the most adorable lunatics ever. They were the happiest couple she’d ever seen. 

So Darcy slept a lot. She preferred memories to the real-world. Somehow though, she found herself standing by the kitchen now, watching a family she wasn’t part of. Seeing her friend smile with them made a rush bitterness flood through her. Jane’s mom was fine; looking for a new apartment, but fine, nonetheless. Darcy hated her for that a little, then she hated herself even more for even feeling that way. Her friend had been nothing but supportive and didn’t deserve that unearned ire. 

She noticed Jane looking at her then. 

“You came down.” Her voice was surprised, her face hopeful; eyes pleading. 

“Darcy.” Nina said, her smile uncertain. “Would you like something to eat? Or some coffee maybe?” 

But she wasn’t thirsty, and she wasn’t hungry. She wasn’t anything. She was empty. 

Unable to stand the sight of them anymore, Darcy turned and left again. She didn’t remember leaving the house; didn’t remember walking through the village; didn’t remember the long stretch of road under her feet. Despite that lack of cognizance, she found herself walking and stopped. She looked over her shoulder and could see the village sitting half a mile away, nestled in a shallow valley, her feet having taken her down some farmer’s path between two fields. She stopped, then turned to stare. 

Trees shivered in the distance as wind blew along the landscape, but Darcy couldn’t feel its touch. Not even her hair could be bothered to move. What was she doing all the way out here? She looked down, realizing then that she didn’t even have shoes on, but her feet didn’t seem to feel the cold dirt anyway. She frowned. She was still in Nina’s borrowed pajamas too. 

“Darcy, can I come in?” A voice echoed in the air, ringing in her ears for a second before a soft knock of knuckles on wood followed. 

“What the—?” Darcy couldn’t even get her question out before she felt a pressure build in her chest. 

Like an elastic harness had been hooked to her ribs, some great force began pulling at her. She frowned and tried to resist, but no matter her efforts the pull was too powerful. It wrenched her forward. Darcy stumbled, but instead of falling forward she was moving through the air at breakneck speed. The trees blurred by, then the houses. She saw a flash of hallway and Jane standing outside a door before she sat up in bed with a choking gasp, the covers halfway off and her eyes wide with panic. Sweat was cooling on her forehead, and her skin prickled uncomfortably. 

The knock came again and her eyes darted to the door, wild with confusion. 

What the hell just happened? 

She pushed the blankets off and threw her legs off the bed, wanting something solid under her feet as her body tingled with the first emotions she’d felt in weeks. The door opened, and Jane poked her head inside, catching sight of Darcy as she leant forward against her knees. 

“Hey,” she said. “You okay? You just—” 

“How long have I been gone for?” Darcy asked, her mind brushing off the cobwebs of disuse and stretching, finally distracted from the pain she’d been slowly simmering to death in. 

“Gone? You were just downstairs a minute ago. What do you mean? You feeling okay?” 

Darcy shook her head, not sure how to answer. Maybe she’d snapped and had a hallucination, the wallowing and living like the waking dead getting to her at last. She could suddenly feel again though. The emptiness of her belly; the dry throat and chapped lips; the physical ache of her bruised and broken heart. Her eyes started to burn as tears threatened to rise, and her shaking head shifted into a nod instead as she buried her face into her hands and sobbed, the burst of emotion too overpowering to choke back. 

Jane rushed to her in an instant and threw an arm around her shoulders, and after a good, long, hard and ugly cry, Darcy felt like she could take a small step forward. She’d been suffocating with depression and that was no way to live. Her parents and brother were gone. There was no changing that fact. There was no ignoring it or pretending it hadn’t happened. They were dead, and she was here, but she wasn’t alone. Hugging Jane back, the two embraced for a long stretch until she was ready to sit back and wipe the tears from her eyes. 

“Sorry I’ve been such a lame duck these last few—” 

“No.” Jane interrupted. “You don’t apologize for that. You hear me? What happened to us—what happened to _you;_ it’s not something you ever have to say sorry for to anyone. It isn’t right, and it isn’t fair, and you’re allowed to feel however you want about it.” 

“Thanks.” She croaked, another lump of emotion trying to climb up her throat at her friend’s words. “I just feel so drained now. Like, first I wasn’t here, and now I’m _too_ here, if that makes sense. Does that make sense? My brain hurts.” 

Jane smiled. 

“It makes sense.” 

“Good. God Jane, this just sucks so fucking bad, you know? Like, I don’t know how to cope. They’re gone, _really_ gone and I’m not, and Ian—I mean for fuck’s sake Ian is in freaking therapy _and_ engaged? You did tell me that like a week ago, right? _Engaged,_ engaged?” 

“Engaged. To his first therapist. Erik and I have been e-mailing back and forth. And talking too. Phones are back up, and there’s a lot to catch up on. Did you know he did a documentary while we were gone?” 

“Right.” Again, Darcy wasn’t sure how to process the information, so instead she moved on to something else, trying to compartmentalize the feelings she didn’t want in the back of her mind somewhere. “So first, I think I need some food. And coffee. And maybe a drink later while you catch me up on the crap I’ve been trying really hard not to think about. Only the good crap. Not the bad crap. I can’t deal with the bad crap today.” 

“Agreed. Want me to bring something up, or do you want to come down to the kitchen and be social?” 

Darcy took in a deep breath, then let it out again. 

“I’ll be social. I should really tell Nina thanks anyway for lending the bed and the pjs.” 

“Pretty sure the pajamas are yours now considering you haven’t taken them off in two weeks. I think there’s a statute for that sort of thing.” 

“Two weeks? Really?” Darcy sniffed herself and cringed. “On second thought I should go be social with some water first.” 

“I’ll go get you a towel.” 

As Darcy stood in the shower, she considered her morning and decided that the strange walk out of town must have been a mental exercise or something. It had to be her body’s way of saying ‘yo, time to get up already’ because it really had snapped her back to reality like nothing else had. As much as it hurt to be present, she knew wandering around inside her memories wasn’t something her mom would’ve wanted her to do with this literal second chance. She still couldn’t think about the finer details of her family’s demise, but she could at least accept that it was a done deal and move on from there. She’d lock the rest of those feelings down somewhere deep and deal with it later; maybe not the healthiest thing in the world, but it was the only way she’d be able to go face the people downstairs with any semblance of a personality. 

She closed her eyes and stuck her face under the water. 

“You’re gonna be okay Darce,” she breathed out. “One step at a time.” 

She turned the water off then, dried, dressed, and went to face the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of angst in this chapter, i know, but I had to get some out of the way while Darcy processes stuff. I hope Bucky was okay too. This is my first time writing him and I know the voice isn't the same as a lot of fics tend to portray, but I'm basing him off the personality he shows in the the most recent MCU movies. Hope that doesn't disappoint anyone, but if it does, please let me know and maybe I'll scrap that plan. Plus, there's always room for growth as time passes, so who knows...
> 
> I've settled on a power for Darcy though I think (though it could always grow), and it'll become more apparent in the next chapter. I wanted to do more in this one, but I felt like all this heavy emotional stuff from the end of Endgame needed to be sorted first and there wasn't room for more unless I wanted to double the length of this.
> 
> So yeah, lemme know what you think! Hope you like it so far, and totally feel free to tell me if you think anyone else should come back with a power.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and comments are always very much appreciated!


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